


Hated

by yalltookmyusernameideas



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Gen, no happy ending, self hatred, self worth issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:02:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23204380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yalltookmyusernameideas/pseuds/yalltookmyusernameideas
Summary: Deceit reflects on his place in Thomas's mind.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	Hated

Deceit knew he was made to be hated. After all, Thomas prided himself on his honesty, and what was he if not the antithesis of honesty? Deceit knew he was made to be hated, and he accepted that. He was okay with that. 

He didn’t cast longing glances at the other sides, the light sides and Remus, all managing to get along once in a blue moon, he didn’t wish for a place in the discussion, a seat at the metaphorical table, he didn’t wish they’d put some weight in his words, some trust in him- 

Though, then again, putting trust in Deceit did seem rather backwards. 

Deceit really, genuinely did want what was best for Thomas, a host who would never see that, a host who would never love him, a host who had made him to be unloved and ridiculed and shunned; the one truly hated side. 

Deceit was okay with that. He was! He understood, everyone had aspects of themselves they’d rather not think about, sides they’d rather not face, sides they’d never come to terms with. 

Sides they’d never love. 

Deceit was not okay with that. Deceit could never be okay with that. After all, how does one come to terms with the fact that their very reason for existing, their very purpose, their entire  _ being _ is a cause for their hatred. 

Simple. They don’t. 

Deceit learned to cope. His coping involved a lot of… questionable methods. 

Shapeshifting was his favorite. After all, if he could look like someone Thomas loved it was a lot easier to forget how hated he was. He could wear Joan’s face and pretend that all the praise Thomas and his fans directed towards them was directed at him by extension. He could wear Roman’s face and pretend the credit for the brilliant ideas and content Thomas produced went to him. He could wear Virgil’s face and pretend he had, by some miracle been accepted. 

He would pretend, until he couldn’t anymore. 

Thomas knew about him. His scales became more prominent. His disguises were less on-point. He could no longer mimic the others word for word, step for step. Thomas knew about him now, and Thomas hated him. 

Deceit sat in his room, a new development, something he was still getting used to, staring at himself in the mirror. He closed his eyes. Concentrated. Opened them. Staring back at him was Logan, but he was a  _ wrong _ Logan. His eyes weren’t the right shade of blue, not the deep ocean blue Logan wore around the mindscape. His tie was a little too close to purple; the stripes just a little too thin and close together. His glasses were just a bit too round, hair a bit too mussed, shirt more a dark grey than a black. He was Logan, but a bit to the left. 

Deceit closed his eyes, concentrated again, harder this time, thinking of a side he knew better. Remus. 

Remus stared back at him, but again, a wrong Remus. The bright acid green was too close to Deceit’s own yellow. The subtle unsettling touches, the aspects that were distinctly  _ Remus _ were missing. The smell was far too pleasant to truly be the dark side of creativity. His eyes for to serious, expression far too collected, stance far too formal. He was Remus, if Remus had been the one to land on the light side instead of Roman. 

Deceit went through each of the sides like this, each of Thomas’ friends, through Thomas himself, each being a bit off, a bit wrong, just left of center, just wrong enough that Deceit noticed, that anyone would notice, anyone would be able to call him out, tell him off, chase him away. 

Deceit sat in his room, staring at his mirror. He closed his eyes, let his concentration drop. Looking up, he stared back at himself. His scales, his snake eye, his caplet and bowler hat. His sneer, his frown, his tears as he looked away, unable to bear the sight of himself a moment longer. 

Everything about him was dishonestly Deceit as he sunk to the ground, shaking with silent sobs, knowing he’d never be good enough, He’d always be second rate, just a bit too far off, just different enough from the original to be disgusting, wrong, unlovable. 

Hated. 

But really, what else was new? 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, your feedback is appreciated!


End file.
